Vol. XLVIII, No. 1
January 2024
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THE NOE VALLEY VOICE All a Flutter
It’s Time Again to Raise the Words
By LisaRuth Elliott
We Begin the New Year With New Writing
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elcome to 2024 and new writing from your neighbors. The Noe Valley Voice is proud to present the following poems and stories crafted here in Noe Valley and vicinity. We do this twice a year—in January and August, while our usual contributors take a break. We’re gratified that so many skilled writers choose to participate in these editions. And we’re certain you’ll enjoy their work reflecting and shining a light on what unites us: our inner lives made visible. We’re also grateful for the support of our advertisers—all local merchants and professionals who see the value in helping the Voice with their dollars. For over 46 years they’ve been providing our printing budget and a small stipend for our contributors. You can join us in thanking them by paying for their wares and services. Together we create and sustain the vibrant community here that we love.
n my parents’ house I recently found a sheet of paper on which my parents recorded my first 100 words. My eighth word was BIRD. I may have thought that in the last decade, through my own diligence, I had become a birder, but when we located this list, my mother explained that she and my dad began pointing out birds to me as soon as I began looking at things. In honor of this discovery, I offer vignettes about eight backyard birds. We have a low-tech bird bath in our backyard adjacent to a hummingbird feeder. This morning ritual of cleaning and refilling the bath has made for some fun proximity to the little buzzers as I crouch with the hose and look up at their long slender tongues slurping up the sugar juice. then I go sit down on the patio to drink my morning nectar—coffee. I have named one frequent juvenile sipper “Cheeky”—for his attitude, yes, but also for the single tiny pink feathers gracing each cheek. His adult feathers have not yet fully grown in, leaving him with a bit of a spotty flash when the light hits his head.
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A Bouquet for You. The colors of Noe Valley are here for your contemplation— escorting you to calming colors and an invitation to “cultivate peace of mind and strength of heart.” Photo by Jack Tipple
And then there’s you dear reader. Many of you paricipate in the most meaningful way by writing a Letter to the Editor. Yours are the additional eyes and ears we depend on to gain a better understanding of this special place many
of us call home. And send us your poems, essays and short fiction. Aside from our January and August Literary issues, we feature a regular column called Other Voices. We’d love to see you there.
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Wishes for a Grandson by Grace D’Anca I wish you curiosity when you don’t know the question and can’t find an answer in the tool box and keep swimming diving deep and coming up wise. I wish you words, to show you to use when you feel shy to give comfort to stop hurt words, only you can say. I wish you smiles to flash straight teeth in spite of the rick rack now and smiles always, when you see me or hear my voice. I wish you a kittens and maybe a dog to teach you tenderness to help you learn what doesn’t last and to keep you whole if you’re alone. I wish you to do what you’re good at what needs to be done even if you’re not the star. Do it because grandpa did because he never did because he didn’t live long enough to see it, dream it know It could be possible.
A List of Things Of the Heart
Mozart in the Mission District
A Poem for Children
Dedicated to Casements Bar and Classical Revolution
by Mark Thoma
by Jeff Kaliss Impossible to list all the things of the heart— Like counting the hay in a burro's cart! The hoot of an owl in the woods at night The low lying gold in morning light The bleat of a sheep in search of her mother Wind and snow heard from under the covers Honks of geese way overhead Butter melting and pooling atop cornbread Bebop doo wop of a jazz quartet Baby twins tittering tete a tete A cuckoo caught in a cumbersome clock Seabreeze, sun, and sandy flip-flops A boy running fast under his kite The moon pulling Jupiter in morning twilight Impossible to list all the things of the heart — but look at us here, we're off to a start!
Enough forever and far enough away you have me live and lit, sheltered from notness by upstanding wooden walls, boldly graffittied in neighborhood pride. Nearby, se habla español, and now I listen to what, long enough ago, a German wrote with flickers from a candle, a little music in his too few nights, though it still sparkles in my much later and much longer life. Eyes open to the sounds, we sing the sharing on a planet which listens and looks from blue to black and back because we can.
• Minnesota native Grace D’Anca came to San Francisco in 1967 in pursuit of the arts. She performed with theater and dance groups in mental health facilities, special programs for youth, and funky church basements. She got interested more in audiences and became a creative arts therapist. Retired now, she is making poems, art, performances, and dancing with the mirror.
• Mark Thoma has practiced medical social work for thirty years and is semi-retired. He writes poetry and flash memoir. Mark lives in the Castro. • Jeff Kaliss is a Voice veteran who went on to global and webwide music journalism and authorship, as well as poetry, much of it created in public houses with musical accompaniment.